Where We Love is Home
by HayashiOkami
Summary: After the war demigods from across the world were brought to Camp Half-Blood. What they didn't consider was that some foreigners didn't want to go to America and would do anything to return to the lands they loved.
1. Our Hearts Never Left That Place

_**Where We Love is Home**_

_After the war, demigods from across the world were brought into Camp Half-Blood. What they didn't account for was the rivalries among those nations of the world that, when together, cause wars of the worst kinds. When Justin agreed to this, he didn't agree to room with an Englishman._

"Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts" (Oliver Wendell Holmes)

_**Chapter One:**__ Our Hearts Never Left That Place_

Justin never wanted to leave his lovely home in France for some dank little camp in America. There were aspects about his family that he didn't favor so much, like the constant battles over the family name and the absence of his parents, but he loved everyone all the same. Hannah was not even his birth mother, but she accepted him with warm arms and smiles and he had grown to love her despite the truth. His father never cared to elaborate about his birth and he respected that. At some point, he must have wondered about his real mother, but now he could care less.

The French did not commit themselves towards relationships immediately, so Justin had been wary of the strange foreigner that started to cling to his every step two months ago. The boy had not even bothered to speak French and claimed that he was going to be Justin's 'friend'. When he was borderline ready to call the _National Police_, his father relented and told him the entire truth. Never had Justin seen his father so tired and that was the only reason why he agreed to cross the Atlantic with the foreigner that turned out to be a goat in disguise.

Justin only believed his father because he was never known to be a comedic person. He asked so many questions in the aftermath that the satyr's head must have spun, but the answers didn't make Justin grow fond of his 'real' mother in any way. Indifferent by the end of the discussion, he was only concerned with the _monsters_ that the satyr talked about earlier. Never one to skip lessons, Justin remembered many of the myths and legends about the Greeks and their deities. His rational mind didn't want to accept it, but his father did convince him in the end.

Somewhere along the way, he committed himself towards making the trip hell for the satyr. Though he'd learnt how to speak fluent English years ago, Justin insisted on addressing the goat-boy with nothing but French. He complained about the food, the living arrangements, the seasickness, and clung to the satyr until he locked himself away in a cabin. Successful, Justin spent the rest of the trip in peace while he enjoyed the sights of the ocean. For those few days, he was able to forget about the confusing matter of 'demigods' and Greek myths.

Upon their arrival in New York, Justin decided that he didn't like America at all. Unlike the countries of Europe he'd visited, the streets were filthy and the rats were the size of small dogs. Muttering about how unsanitary the place was the entire ride in the taxi, Justin wondered if it was too late to return home. The satyr was also talking to himself, worried about monsters and the like, disturbing the taxi driver. Justin sulked for awhile until he decided to do something productive and pulled a worn book from his duffel bag. He hadn't read anything about Voltaire for months and cracked a small smile upon opening the cover.

"Is that in _French_?" the satyr said in a rather annoying, reproachful voice. Justin shot him a glare and responded with an irritated, '_oui_', meaning 'yes'. True, the words always swayed and blurred before his eyes, but that didn't make reading impossible. Whatever nonsense the satyr had spouted about his mind being hardwired to reading Greek didn't affect his habits at all. Translations of the classics were horribly distorted and he loved his language besides that. French was still prettier than Ancient Greek when he compared the two.

"I like it. I dislike you. Leave me alone," Justin snapped in English, returning to his book in his _lovely_ language without any alterations and translation errors. The satyr had enough of arguing apparently, because he didn't push the subject further. Even though humans didn't do it, he kept on sniffing the air, 'searching for monsters' he said. Justin had his doubts, but reminded himself that this was all for his father and he would be damned if he disappointed the man that raised him with patience and kindness.

It came as a pleasant surprise that New York actually had some forests in the middle of the concrete jungle. The unpleasant surprise was that he and the satyr had to walk to their destination from the roadside. Apparently there were monsters in these forests and he had to admit that the prospect made him nervous. It would be lovely if he died in America. That would cause some sort of international incident, he was sure. That would serve them right, for dragging him away from his home. With a scoff, he climbed over a fallen tree trunk covered in moss and unconsciously walked a little closer to the satyr.

The noon sunlight was harsh and unforgiving as they trekked through the forest canopy. Justin didn't mind the outdoors, but he minded the fact that he still didn't know where they were headed. A bit too stubborn to ask, he held his tongue and swung his bag over his shoulder as they worked their way up some hills. The satyr, whose name he still didn't recall, paused all of a sudden. Frozen to that spot of dirt and grass, Justin had a feeling that he wasn't enjoying the breeze. He took a deep, steady breath and asked what was wrong. He chose to ignore the quiver in his voice.

"Run," said the satyr, his strange half-form bursting into a sprint as he grasped Justin's hand. That normally would annoy him, but the ruckus some meters behind them made him shut up for once and comply with the goat-boy. The noise sounded something like a herd of large boars crashing through the thicket with a wolf after them. Justin wasn't stupid enough to turn around and see what was pursuing them, not when he could hardly find his footing among the forest floor. The trees didn't seem to deter the creature, and neither did the huge boulders that were easily three times the size of a human.

There was no breath in his lungs to talk or ask what was happening. His chest burned and his face stung from the branches that whipped his skin. They were approaching a hill, a large hill, and he was immediately alarmed. There wasn't any way that they could get over that thing faster than whatever creature was behind them. He was almost ready to just give up altogether rather than try and run uphill, but the satyr was strong for his stature and insisted that they continue. Justin thought that it was alright to glance over his shoulder now, but saw only a path of destruction and the shuddering of pine trees before he was yanked into a sprint again.

When they reached the summit and dashed past a strange, out-of-place tree with some large creature curled around its trunk, the satyr came to a sudden halt. Still with his momentum from the run, Justin managed a short gasp before he went tumbling downhill. He landed in an ungainly and disgraceful slump at the base and cradled his throbbing head in his hands. There were people whispering around him, but he could really care less at the moment. When he'd untangled his limbs from each other and the duffel bag, Justin searched for the satyr with a vengeance and found him making an escape off to the side.

"I did not come to America to be chased through a forest and deposited down a hill when I was perfectly safe in France! Nor did I ask for a personal stalker!" Justin fumed, although he might have come off as childish, he admitted. The satyr shrank back and ran off without a word and that was the end of that. While he rubbed the places over his body where he was sure bruises would appear later, he became aware of the various faces of the people that surrounded him. Self-conscious among the stares, he settled for retrieving his duffel bag to keep his hands busy. They never were good with keeping still.

Some people disappeared over the edge of the large hill, presumably to dispatch whatever had chased him and that satyr a moment ago. Justin allowed himself to shiver in the fear and realization that he'd almost died. When he'd processed the incident in his mind, he carefully pushed it away to some far corner where it couldn't bother him. There wouldn't be any use in having some panic attack, especially since the satyr had warned him about the monsters. He would just have to deal with it on his own time.

"You come from France? Cool, and welcome to Camp Half-Blood! Usually it takes awhile to get foreigners here, but I'm glad you made here safely! I'm Percy Jackson, who're you? Who's your godly parent? I think the satyr that brought you here's kind of afraid…that's probably because of the monsters," one boy in an _outrageous _orange shirt said. Justin cringed at the grotesque color and noticed that everyone else was wearing one as well, including the girl that came up to him and smacked him across the head. He hoped that he didn't have to wear such a tacky thing.

"Americans _are_ rude," Justin muttered, shifting his bag between his aching arms. They had to interrogate him immediately upon his arrival, apparently, without any time for him to settle in or anything. The stay here would be horrendous, he was sure, living with people who had such manners. America was not his favorite place on earth right now. "My name is Justin Lévesque. I do not know why you wish to know, but my father is Ferdinand Lévesque and my mother is Hannah Perrot. What are the details of this camp, exactly?"

"Details…? What're you talking about? I meant your _godly_ parent, not your foster parent. And Annabeth, I'm not rude!" the boy said to the girl beside him. While they got into some friendly, harmless argument Justin became increasingly annoyed by the strange people in front of him. The crowd had mostly dispersed now that the danger had passed, but some campers clung to the sidelines and absorbed the information with greed. All they seemed concerned with was his 'godly' parent, which he took as an insult to Hannah. Hannah wasn't his birth mother, but she treated him no different from his brothers.

"You are very rude to ask of my parents when we have just met. My _real _mother is Hannah, not whatever goddess you might think about. She has never done anything for me in my entire life, so she is not my mother in the slightest sense," Justin said with a scowl as he watched Percy scrutinize him. It wouldn't do to act uncomfortable, so he waited with impatience for the girl to pull him away. She seemed to be able to knock some sense into the boy, for that Justin was grateful. "What I ask is: exactly what do campers _do_ in this camp?"

"Oh, uh, we learn to fight and stuff, of course! There's a whole bunch of stuff we do around here, but it's sort of 'free time' now…" Although Justin had learnt English rather early in life as a prerequisite in his private school, between Percy's thick American accent and his rapid speech, a headache formed instantly. He chose to ignore the boy, not because he really hated him or anything, but because he didn't even seem to be talking to Justin anymore. The French boy collapsed on the ground now that the jetlag was starting to affect him. It would be around seven or so in France, he reasoned.

"So you're new, huh? Those two bicker since they're boyfriend-girlfriend, sorry about that. I'm Richard, Richard Abel. Nice to meet you," said another camper in that tacky orange shirt. Justin squinted against the sunlight and was met with a grinning face and outstretched hand. Truthfully, he would rather remain on the soft grass and take a nap, but that wasn't an option. With a nod, he accepted the hand and Richard yanked him to his feet with a surprising amount of strength. He even tried to dust him off before Justin saw through his act.

"I would not think any less of you if you dropped the overly good manners. Do not try to impress me or anything, I'm not the type to nit-pick about it; I just dislike rude people," Justin said. He caught Richard off guard, but the other boy made a quick recovery and broke into good-natured laughter. Justin frowned, but the laughter was contagious and he found himself returning a small smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, _Richard*_…" Justin trailed off when Richard gave him a confused expression.

"What did you call me?" the other boy asked. Justin blinked and rethought his words, but there was nothing out of the ordinary about what he said. He hadn't called the American boy anything but his name…_unless, unless,_ he thought, _I pronounced his name wrong?_ "I'm Richard, not, not…whatever it is you said."

"O-oh, Rich-ard*," Justin said, stumbling over the strange combination of sounds. He pronounced Richard differently in French and didn't even notice it. When they'd both caught up with the conversation, they shared a good laugh until Justin's chest hurt. Without knowing why, he relaxed around Richard and had forgotten that he was in America, not France. The laughter stopped when he realized that there was nothing normal about this _camp_ and its inhabitants. He'd come to America because his father insisted and he didn't want to let him down. Once he was here, he didn't know what to do.

"You okay? Sorry, we won't know where to put you until tonight- you'll see- but you can take a rest in my cabin if you want. It's jetlag, right? I came all the way from Nevada, so I know how you feel." Richard seemed like the type of person that was content to ramble without needing answers and Justin was grateful for it. There weren't many coherent responses he could think up at the moment. "Really, camp's so crowded this year. Not everyone's arrived yet, either. There're so many new demigods! Lots of construction went on last year."

Justin nodded occasionally towards Richard's comments whenever he turned to the French boy. In France, it wasn't that late, so he shouldn't be this tired, he reasoned. There had been a moment when he thought that he was going to die, so maybe his mind was in overdrive with the aftermath of that. But being in America and staying here for the summer seemed more daunting than when he had agreed to it at home. Already he missed his dysfunctional family.

"I'll come get you when it's time for dinner, okay? I don't think anyone will miss you on the first day. My bed's two over from the back wall. See you," Richard said, waving as he deposited Justin at the doorstep of a cabin. The sweet smell of grapes fresh from a vineyard washed over him as he entered through the wooden doors. He wanted to collapse, not from the fatigue, but from the nostalgia that permeated his chest. His father had known a family that worked a vineyard and while Justin wasn't fond of the wine, he was fond of the memories.

The sweet smells that he'd grown up around lulled him to sleep before he could even feel the bed underneath him. _The sheets smell differently,_ he noticed in some half-aware state of consciousness, _they smell musty_. Prosper, his older brother, always had the sort of scent clinging to him. Whenever the days grew tough and hard to manage, he liked to close his eyes and simply drift away to remember all the good memories he had. For a brief moment, he could imagine that he wasn't in America anymore.

"J-Justin, wake up, wake up now." Justin snuggled into the pillow further and made a soft noise of protest. Rough hands shook his arm until the will to sleep had washed away. With a groan, he lifted his head and found Richard already tugging him out of bed, anxious and panicky. Again reminded of how strong the other boy was, Justin was on his swaying feet in moments. "We got to get out of here. We're going out the back door, come on."

As he blinked a few times, the darkness of the cabin became apparent, his eyes adjusting until he could make out faint shapes around the room. There were shouts outside, he realized, but only a few of them. There couldn't have been anything like a monster outside; otherwise there'd be a lot more noise. Still, Richard was persistent as he ushered Justin towards the back door. Justin yanked his wrist free from the boy's iron grip and refused to move any further. "Richard, what is happening?" The panicked expression on the American's face tripled when he saw whoever had just come bursting through the cabin's main entrance.

Justin swirled around and was met with an extremely angry blond boy with expletives flowing from his mouth in the most ungainly of accents. The words very nearly made him explode as well, if not for Richard's grip on his upper arm.

"This bloody French _git_ is _not_ staying within the same proximity of me for _two_ months! I refuse to believe that we are related in _any_ way. Unhand me!"

* * *

**_Notes/References:_**

• This story has the potential to be insulting and offensive about stereotypes of various countries. If that doesn't sit well with you, then don't read it.

• This story came about when I thought about the last book of _Percy Jackson_. I had remembered reading that there would be foreign demigods coming to camp, but I also know that a lot of people are proud of their countries and nationalities. So, if someone is perfectly happy in Europe, why would they ever want to come to America every summer just to go to a camp? Plus, all the monsters were centered around America, meaning that other countries would be relatively safe. It just made sense to me that this result would happen. Plus, the rivalry between the French and the English was just too good to pass up (although I don't think that they hate each other so much anymore).

• I don't know how to curse in British English or how French people actually speak, so it'd be nice if someone could correct anything I get wrong there. The whole scene with the different pronunciation of 'Richard' is a bit hard to get, but basically the French pronounce Richard as 'ree-SHAR'.

• Yes, Justin has ADHD and dyslexia, he just learnt not to exhibit signs of them. Even though it's hard, he enjoys reading in French. And he just got slapped on the hand with a ruler too many times to show his ADHD too much. The French put a heavy emphasis on education, so he's alright with it. That's also why he learnt English. He forgot about the monster so fast because it's just easier for him to cope like that.

• I'd like constructive critisim, since as a writer I don't always catch my mistakes, even if I re-read the story five times.

• I don't own the quotes, I don't own _Percy Jackson._


	2. Cast Away the Bitter Poison

_**Where We Love is Home**_

_After the war, demigods from across the world were brought into Camp Half-Blood. What they didn't account for was the rivalries among those nations of the world that, when together, cause wars of the worst kinds. When Justin agreed to this, he didn't agree to room with an Englishman._

"What is food to one, is to others bitter poison" (Lucretius)

_**Chapter Two:**__ Cast Away the Bitter Poison_

"_Bâtard anglais_," Justin snarled, barely able to say the words before the English boy lunged at him. Whoever had failed to restrain him before now threw themselves at his limbs in success. Justin was only concerned about the two strong arms wrapped around his torso that almost lifted him off his feet. He kicked and screamed until his English faded into French, but Richard wouldn't release him and instead dragged him away from the entire cabin and into the woods. There, he held him until Justin hadn't the energy to continue his tirade.

"There, feel better? You got it all out? Geez, what's wrong with you? I thought you were a…a quiet guy," Richard said, finally stepping away. Justin rubbed his arms where he was sure bruises would form and shrugged, unsure of the answer himself. The desire to confront that English boy had left, but Justin didn't regret what he did or said. He wasn't completely sure as to why he reacted so violently in the first place. He could have blamed it on the shock of his arrival, but it wasn't a very good excuse.

"I was simply…infuriated, at that moment. Must I stay with him in the duration of my time here? I do not believe that it would be good for either of us," Justin said once his breathing returned to normal. Satisfied, Richard motioned him in another direction, away from the cabins and deeper into the dark forest with its shifting shadows and whispering trees. Faintly, he heard the commotion of what could only be dinner in the distance. The warm glow of fires rested beyond the trees and he was reminded of the last time he ate anything. The mere thought of American food made him shiver.

"I can't tell until later, but you'll see that yeah, you have to stay with him. There will be others, of course, but you'll just have to deal with it. So why do you two hate each other so much anyways? You've met before?" As Richard rambled, Justin almost walked into a tree he was so shocked by the boy's words. Apparently, he had never heard about the rivalry between the French and the English and their hatred for one another. Justin did admit that most French citizens didn't hate the English as much as they used to, but that dislike hadn't gone away completely.

Justin decided that it wasn't worth the breath to explain the conflict to Richard, who had already moved on by this time. The avoidance of the obvious question that Justin had proposed made him suspicious. Richard had said the same before, but he supposed that he wouldn't have to wait any longer with the pavilion entering his view. Reminiscent of ancient Greek architecture, the entire camp was gathered to feast and almost everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. The scents of a strange array of foods entered his nose, none of which were pleasing.

Famished as he was, Justin didn't find it worth consuming the food they had to offer. The short rest he took didn't expel the nerves that he'd buried in the back of his mind and spat upon. Those nerves made him nauseous and rather irritated. Richard provided little explanation and deposited the foreigner at a table where he told him not to move from before he headed off to his own. Feeling rather dejected at being left as someone else's responsibility, Justin refused to speak more than a few muttered French words at the others at the table, even to the two boys who found it amusing to pour soda over his head.

While he sipped at some water and attempted to wipe the sticky liquid from his hair, the two boys who'd earned Justin's glare gaped at him again. Justin wanted to fire a nasty phrase or two their way, something along the lines of 'c_asse-toi_', but the strange creature that was apparently a centaur rose to speak before he could. He started on about something that sounded like a tribal ritual before the table towards Justin's right burst into cheers. They were staring at him, which he attributed to the coca-cola in his light brown hair. Justin flushed in embarrassment.

Around the same time he shouted, "_casse-toi_", Richard slapped him across his shoulder blades and said in an unnecessarily loud voice, "congratulations"! Justin flung his torso forward to avoid the hand, sputtered inelegantly, and twisted around with an apparently hilarious expression. At the moment, he wasn't amused and he felt rather humiliated since those twins had started laughing as well. Only after he inwardly cursed the entire pavilion did he stop to ponder what Richard had said. If this was the _thing_ that Richard had refused to tell him, he really didn't like it.

"W-well, aren't you going to move?" Richard said while he was choking on his laughter. Justin frowned and stood up sharply, sure that he was more flustered than he had been when his brother Prosper inquired as to whether or not he'd had sexual intercourse. Sometimes, he just didn't understand Prosper and was outright disgusted by his actions and words, and at the same time adored him. He was waiting for the same to happen with Richard. Maybe the American had some redeeming qualities, he hoped.

"Move _where_, may I ask," Justin almost spat, biting his tongue from spouting something that he'd regret. His parents taught him better; he thought that he had learnt better than to succumb to mere insults and petty arguments. A beverage in his hair and the presence of laughter and cheering shouldn't change that, even if Richard should have thought first before being so friendly with him. They had known each other for not even a day. His actions were hardly proper.

"To the Athena table of course; you _are_ a son of Athena, you know. This Hermes table is just a temporary thing. No one told you that?" Richard said without any guilt on his part. The other boy made a sudden grab for his shoulders and twirled him around to face the table that made that ruckus before. He marched Justin over towards an empty space and pushed him onto his seat with a wide grin on his face the entire time. "I would say 'welcome', but this isn't my table."

"You _never _told me anything," Justin argued despite the fact that the other boy had probably forgotten all about his comment already. The 'Athena' thing was a bit of a shock, though he didn't know what else he was expecting. The whole idea with the gods and goddesses of Greek mythology actually being _real_ hadn't exactly reached the rational part of his brain yet. Therefore, he made no comment that would render him a fool. His father wouldn't have sent him to some mad camp for nothing. "I have to sit…here from now on?"

"Yep, you're an Athena camper now that our mother claimed you. I'm Annabeth, welcome," said an older girl with one of those tacky shirts and blonde hair. Justin recognized her from earlier that day, at the base of the big hill after he'd gotten chased by _god knows what_. That raised another issue. Justin was still a Christian at heart. It didn't feel right forsaking the religion he'd grown up with and still believed. "You'll feel right at home in no time. We'll bring you to our cabin later."

"You are my…sister now? I'm Justin Lévesque, it's a pleasure," Justin mumbled as the girl left for her food. The new conflict in his head cut off all other coherent thoughts. This new 'family' and religion just didn't suit him. He didn't want to switch between these very different worlds for only two months. And his siblings were Prosper, Gilbert, Jeanne and Irene. Their relationships were rocky sometimes, but he loved them. He knew them and they didn't care that he had a different mother. He didn't know this girl at all. "How are you sure?"

"Didn't you see the sign above your head _at all_?" Richard said in that loud voice of his that irritated Justin. He shook his head even though he would rather have said something profane. There was nothing on his head except for soda, which was still there and sticker than ever. Unless that had been the sign, Justin really didn't understand these Americans at all. "Well, it was there. And you're an Athena kid because of it. Well, I'm a son of Dionysus, though you could probably tell by the cabin…and don't give me that, I don't drink." Richard spared a glare for another 'sibling' of Justin's.

"I suppose that makes sense. I enjoyed it in there. If it would not bother you too much, may I visit sometime?" Justin asked in a hesitant manner. He'd been nothing but snappy towards Richard, yet he still selfishly hoped for some semblance of his other life in France. If only for a brief moment he could pretend that he was there, in the vineyards as a child again. Justin favored complex things in life, but he wasn't fond of the new heritage trust upon him. What flowed through his veins didn't matter if he couldn't even accept the other Athena campers as friends.

"Huh, you want to go back? Why, I'd be honored to have an Athena camper stop by! The rest of your siblings seem to think that we're all a bunch of drunks like our father, no offense there, and party instead of doing constructive things." Richard huffed as he glared at the people around him and offered Justin a wide grin that was becoming contagious. It took all his willpower to prevent himself from following suit. Even at that he allowed a small smile to slip. It seemed to delight Richard, for some reason.

"Thank you. I will not take advantage of your hospitality," Justin said. He felt obliged to include the last part, just in case Richard had any concerned about it. The American boy just nodded and patted him rather harshly on his back. With another grin, he pushed a plate of pasta towards Justin and forced him to eat it in whatever time there was left of dinner. And although there might have been an ulterior motive, he poured a glass of water over his head to wash off the soda before the insects got to him.

The days following his first steps into camp were hectic and confusing. Justin struggled through most of the activities with Richard chattering by his side. They soon fell into a comfortable peace with each other that Justin couldn't find with any of his so called 'siblings'. After he'd learnt to take most of what Richard said with a grain of salt, he found himself loosening up to the American. He shared some of his insecurities with him and learnt that Richard was homesick, too. Due to the monster population, he'd been forced to move away from California on the other side of the United States and he missed home as well.

The horrible aspect of his new living arrangements was the fact that the English boy Seth Mitchell was one of his supposed 'siblings'. He might have been the reason why Justin refused to call them family. There was no way that he was related to such an insufferable guy. Seth was a fifteen year old from Liverpool, England, which he assured the other campers in exasperation, was nowhere near London. Various times he'd been asked similar questions and answered that no, he was not from Paris. In that sense he could sympathize with the Englishman, but that was where their similarities stopped.

Whenever Richard could, he snuck away from his cabin and greeted Justin at the strangest times, like when he was busy trying to figure out how to hold a bow and arrow or ride a Pegasus without getting bitten. Exactly a week passed with few other events happening. The monsters that showed themselves were apparently nothing out of the ordinary and no new campers came trudging down the large hill. From Richard Justin learnt more about the camp and its recent history, which he still remained skeptical about, not that he would admit it aloud.

The humidity today made Justin more irritated than usual. He hadn't any idea that New York was so horrible with its weather. At times like this, he wished that the cabins had air conditioning. Justin admitted that he was a little spoiled; he liked his comforts and pleasures in life. Richard could hardly make him move the entire day, but had to leave around five o' clock to clean his cabin. Unlike Justin, Richard kept a rather messy living space that he found repulsing when he'd spent time in the Dionysus cabin.

The bustle in his own cabin was distracting, so he couldn't read if he could sit still long enough to flip a single page. Somewhere along the line that day, Richard had slapped a fold up fan that he'd gotten from an Aphrodite girl into his hand and told him to, 'shut up and cool off' when his whining had gotten to an all time high. Justin chose an out of the way place to sit with the blue paper fan and closed his eyes as he leaned against the wooden building behind him. He wanted to go home.

Ever since the night of his arrival his Athena 'siblings' never stopped telling him about their 'mother', as if he hadn't read a single Greek classic in his lifetime. They spoke highly of the goddess, almost on the borderline of ignoring the horrible things she had done in the past. The campers glorified Athena until Justin made a reluctant and short lived truce with Seth to escape their incessant speeches. The morning after, the French and English boys were back to spitting at each other from afar. That was one thing that wouldn't change, Justin thought, no matter how much that older girl wanted peace.

Justin couldn't actually call the camp a complete waste of time and effort no matter how much he wanted to. The activities, once he wrapped his mind around their purposes, were rather fun and challenging. Richard was always there to keep him company and force laughter from his otherwise serious demeanor, either ignorant or uncaring of Justin's tendency to be rude towards others. Still, Justin couldn't call the American his friend so soon. There were obligations that came with being friends and he wasn't ready for that. So acquaintances would have to do for the moment.

The sun beyond the horizon was waning, its midday heat dissipated as evening approached. Justin folded up the fan and stored it away in his pocket as he drew his legs to his chest. Behind him, he heard the commotion from the volleyball game and gauged just how much time he had before the other Athena campers came to collect him for dinner. They had the strangest sense for those types of things. Seth seemed to be the only one who could escape their grasps for more than an hour.

There was a rather obnoxious commotion in the distance over the large hill. Justin took it as simply a monster on a rampage and paid little attention to it until the roars were audible and too close to the camp. The sounds somehow alerted the volleyball players during their shouting matches and soon enough there was a small crowd gathered at the base of the hill. They seemed more expectant than anxious, but Justin didn't see how they could remain so unalarmed. A few Ares campers broke away from the group just as some speck came over the horizon.

Justin squinted against the sunset and absently noticed Richard's approach from behind. For the first time, he didn't shrug off the taller boy's hands when they rested on his shoulders. When he grew familiar with people, Justin could become rather touchy, but Richard unnerved him because he'd been around for such a short amount of time. Another of those strange goat creatures sprinted past the tree and Justin grew terse automatically. He felt the grip on his thin shoulders tighten. He still didn't like those things, no matter how many times his 'siblings' _and_ Richard tried to convince him otherwise.

Behind the goat creature was another boy around Justin's age. As they approached down the hill, he could make out the ruffled appearance of the newcomer, most definitely a demigod. He was able to breathe again when the sounds in the forest beyond stopped and found that he was surprised that he'd been holding his breath in the first place. Around him, the campers welcomed the new demigod and Richard's hands slipped off his shoulders. Justin glanced backwards, only to find that he'd disappeared and became one of the spectators crowded around the new boy.

Justin inched forward and after he muttered, 'pardon me' a few times he made it towards the center just in time to hear a colorful array of expletives in German. The others seemed confused about the language, but Justin recognized it easily. Germany _was_ France's neighbor, after all, and it was hard to mistaken their rough words for anything else. This boy did speak somewhat differently from the Germans that Justin had spoken with on the very rare occasion that he met them. As the boy gradually lapsed into normal speech, Justin mentally smacked himself on his head.

"_He speaks Swiss German,_" Justin muttered to no one in particular, not that they would have understood him since he spoke in French. The Swiss boy shrugged off the satyr rather violently and before Justin could register it, walked up to him in some haughty manner, ignoring all the others. Blinking in confusion, he greeted the boy with the small amount of German that he had learnt a few years back. "_Can I help you?_"

"You too are from mainland Europe, are you not? A Frenchman," the boy said. Justin found himself only able to nod in response as he met the even eyes of the other. He had a slight accent in his English, so Justin supposed that he had learnt the language from school. In all possibility, he probably knew either French or Italian as well, considering the fact that Switzerland's three official languages were German, French and Italian. "So then we are comrades here, in this land of freedom and liberty. We are proud of _our_ countries, are we not? We are proud of our countries and their rich histories."

"Yes, I'm glad that I live in France…" Justin said slowly, his mind working to figure out the other context behind the boy's words. Many people Justin knew spoke in slightly ambiguous ways. America was a little more simple than that, he'd found, at least in this camp. He was glad to finally have someone (who wasn't English) to hold an intelligent conversation with, someone that knew him better than these campers. When he'd begun to understand just what the boy was implying, Justin smiled and nodded. "My name is Justin Lévesque, from the Rennes region in France."

"I am Julian Gwerder and I hail from Zurich in Switzerland. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lévesque," Julian said, offering Justin his hand. Without really knowing what he was doing getting into such strange business with a Swiss, Justin accepted the handshake and departed just as the hour struck six. With a bit of pity for Julian, whose body was probably thinking the time to be eleven at night by now, Justin rejoined Richard for another strange night at dinner. With the American boy around, Justin somehow always found a reason to smile.

* * *

**_Notes/References:_**

• There is a crapload of curse words in here that I'm not going to translate. Also has the potential to be offensive, again, which will probably remain the norm for the story.

• I don't own the quotes, _Percy Jackson _etc.

• The Swiss use surnames until they get to know people, for the most part, so get used to Justin being called Lévesque. Swiss German is a dialect of German in Switzerland and is different from the German spoken in Germany.

• I didn't really know what sign to put for an Athena camper, so Justin never figures it out either. He hasn't exactly figured out how to 'order' food from the table either, since no one bothered to tell him.

• The humidity in the New York area is a killer when it gets bad, so that's true.


	3. The Best Laid Plans

_**Where We Love Is Home**_

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry." (Robert Burns, _To a Mouse_)

_**Chapter Three: **__The Best Laid Plans_

As Justin came to discover, Julian Gwerder was a devious and manipulative boy underneath the masks of mild composure and violence he expressed. The defiance and doubt stemmed from the small talks they held each day about their homelands until uncertain flickers of rebellion blossomed in their minds. Julian took the matter no further, for their hearts had already decided the outcome. Nature's course would guide them, he once said in passing. All around Justin heard the murmurs and hateful remarks arise from his fellow Europeans. The small doubt that this might not work fled from his mind.

The talks were no longer private or held in whispered tones when two more demigods arrived over the hill. Others came with them, some of which never survived the hazardous journey but drew little attention from Julian. The Greek and Russian boys were his targets- new minds in which he could sow the seeds of doubt. Justin watched from the shadows with Richard at his side as Julian spoke in affable, benign tones about the days he missed in Switzerland. Artfully, Julian avoided bringing the newcomers into the conversation unless they wished to contribute. The eloquence and sensitivity bred trust.

Richard played along with Justin's anxiety as he witnessed the plans unfold- for Julian most certainly had some plan hidden behind his pleasant demeanor. The process was a difficult one, Justin understood from the start. European countries had such rivalries with one another that they distanced themselves from everyone in wariness. The barriers were hard to shatter; they were easy to blur in America. Over the heated days and weeks Justin began to understand his fellow Europeans- he began to laugh with them. Freedom drew them together more than cultural similarities and interests.

Julian was no fool though; he understood the need for secrecy. Outright opposition would endanger them to whatever the punishment may be for their illicit acts. In the shadows they grew close, in public they grew apart. The pretend hatred was easy to emulate as rivalry, which held more truth than not in Justin's and Seth's cases. The tentative truce between them lasted as long as Richard kept Justin from starting another argument or fight. The American boy refused to leave his side for one reason or another. For awhile Justin didn't mind.

He didn't mind until Richard insisted that seeing the others was a bad idea. As much as Justin grew attached to Richard throughout the weeks of companionship, he had enough with others telling him what was best. When he finally began to view his stepmother and siblings as family, his father insisted it was better that he travel to America. Once in America he had his 'siblings' insisting that a goddess he never saw was his real mother. In his subtle ways Julian insisted that rebellion was the only option.

"I do not think _you_ understand. In Europe there _are_ no monsters. We are safe and we are happy. Now that we know this world exists, we are in danger. What is there to understand?" Justin snarled at Richard as he stalked away from the cabin smelling of fragrant grapes. The heat muddled his thoughts, he was aware of that yet cared little for any doubts. Richard had been a good friend, aloof but clearly loyal and supportive. Justin was not sure what changed, only that he should have never gotten close to the boy. Rushed relationships never went far. It took him so many years to leave behind any doubts about his family, after all.

"You're getting yourself into danger, that's what! You don't know these people or what they want to do or if you really are safe in Europe. They- no, Julian- is feeding these ideas into your head and you're just _taking them_." Richard never heeded Justin's aversion to personal contact and he supposed this was no time to start, but Justin was not in the mood to be manhandled like usual. Unfortunately for him, the American boy excelled in every physical activity that he failed at, including just about everything save archery.

The grip on his shoulders halted his progress. "This _camp_ is feeding ideas into my head every minute of the day. This place will _never_ be home." For awhile the two boys stared each other down with a stubbornness neither was willing to rescind. The thought that he might have to return to this hellhole every summer repulsed him. He wanted to be in France, far away from unpleasant humidity, fake siblings and moody Englishmen. Not to mention the Greek boy, who he could _swear_ was gay or at least bisexual when he wasn't lazing around in some remote shadowy place. Justin had taken note to avoid him.

"You aren't changing your mind, are you," Richard said. There was no inquiry behind his tone. Justin gave him a hard glare and a sharp shake of his head. The hands on his shoulders tightened for a moment, enough to send small pangs of pain down his body before they left entirely. The American turned around abruptly, head down and expression indecipherable. He did not walk away. "Wherever you're going, I'm coming with you. I can't- what if something happens?"

The decision honestly shocked Justin for awhile. All throughout the day's pointlessly excruciating activities and mystifying, irritating dinner he could not shake the thought away. Richard had some notion that they wanted to return home at any cost, and their homes were overseas. The other boy did view this camp as a home of sorts, often speaking about it in reverent tones even when he tried to avoid praising the place Justin despised. Why he would want to follow Justin to Europe was beyond him. Unlike him, Richard enjoyed the strange activities and monster hunts, the upbeat New York lifestyle and American culture.

Europe offered nothing except for Justin's company. And in France, Justin had other friends he missed dearly and loved more than Richard. The child of Dionysus spoke no language other than American English and Ancient Greek, an obsolete language except in studies of the classics. He didn't even speak Spanish. While Europeans tended to understand some degree of English, they of course preferred their native languages. Richard would be what Justin was in this camp.

Justin didn't understand no matter how hard he thought about it. His stubborn personality made him reluctant to ask Richard for a certain answer, though the boy would undoubtedly indulge him what he wanted to know in a heartbeat. Another few days passed with the heat and humidity climbing until everyone was ready to tear each others' throats out from the frustration. It was then that Julian confronted everyone with his plan. It was simplistic, with room for change according to situations.

"We only need to know the flight schedules and airports now," Julian concluded to the shifting, uncomfortable crowd of five. Many of them still had their quiet doubts, still were reluctant to undertake such a journey, but were all equally determined to decide what was best for them. In the end it wasn't really that they missed home, that they couldn't stand staying here for two months, but that they hadn't any choice in a matter where they should have had full opinion on.

"You have to go through JFK," Richard muttered. Whether it was from the heat or unease with the situation, Justin didn't know. Maybe he wasn't going to accompany them after all. He hoped. "It's closest and La Guardia doesn't do international flights. Kind of expensive, though."

"Money's not an issue," Seth offhandedly said with a careless wave. Perhaps a group of teenagers from different backgrounds taking an overseas flight might be, Justin thought. He kept his thoughts to himself, though. The annoyance of his 'siblings' insistence that he contribute brilliant ideas because of his heritage did not make him inclined to share much. Seth added, "Though we do need some pocket-change, preferably in the American dollar."

"I probably have enough for a cab or train or sub. You'll have to pay me back though," Richard said in all seriousness. Justin didn't take him as someone concerned with money, but apparently even people like Richard were more than appearances. There was nothing about his friend's background that allowed him to understand why he was so frugal, though.

On another note, Richard probably inferred that he was coming with them right there. Justin sighed, waved the paper fan in a useless effort to cool his head, and wondered how they were going to do this.

* * *

• Very late and short, but I just wanted to get on with the planning and onto the running. Though I've been busy with school and writing other things, but I dug this up and decided to finish the chapter.


End file.
